


The Domino Effect

by Lapinporokoira



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Brothers, Depression, Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:56:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9390005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapinporokoira/pseuds/Lapinporokoira
Summary: Death is inevitable. For the Turtles it is often a way of life. But even they can fall like dominos under the right circumstances.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on FF.Net many years ago (with a beta) I decided to rewrite a good chunk of this story and repost it here (without beta).  
> Not sure if it's better or worse with the changes so I'll link the original version here if you want to read that one as well.  
> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2962818/1/Domino
> 
> FYI There is no April or Casey, so consider this an alt version where they never met the Turtles.

New York was most alive at night. Here on this rooftop I can see the twinkling lights of activity. People going about their lives, unaware of the world beneath and above them. Ignorant of a war they never knew existed. Lucky Bastards. I wish I never knew about this war either. It took everything away from me. On this very roof top. It was where the end began.

It was supposed to be a normal routine patrol. Jump across buildings, look out for muggers and criminal scum and teach them a lesson, goof off even. Typical stuff. The fact we never encountered any criminal activity apart from a loan purse snatcher should have tipped us off. New York was quiet. Too quiet. Like the scum had taken an extended vacation. By the time we realised our mistake it was too late.

Out of nowhere the Foot descended upon our position in vast numbers. Like a well oiled machine they surrounded us on all sides before we could even unsheathe our weapons. The odds were bad and we all knew it. Despite every Foot we took down another two took their place. It was never ending.

One of my brothers, I don't know who, called Splinter. It was dire enough that we needed our father to balance the odds. It was only a matter of time before the Foot wore us down and as it stood we couldn't last forever.

After a while I could feel every muscle burn, every movement ache and a tiredness set into my very bones. Looking at my brothers I could tell they were feeling the fatigue as well. We couldn't last much longer and even as that unwelcome thought burrowed into my skull like a cockroach, support arrived.

Like one of those superheroes out of the comics Master Splinter flew into the fray. He glanced once at us, worry and determination on his face before focusing on dismantling the Foot army. Now we numbered five and it felt like five hundred and with that I felt my strength seeping back into my arms and I tightened my grip on my weapons. They were just Foot. We could beat them. I dove back into the fray.

I was wrong. Despite Master Splinter the Foot never erred. They continued their pursuit. Those knocked down getting up again and others wounded bad enough they should have pulled away, remained stoic and attacked again and again. Taking the brunt for fresher Ninja to pile in. I must have killed a few at some point but something urged them on. To die for something. Or someone.

I had no idea how long he had been holding back in the shadows but one moment there was an empty rooftop and the next a looming presence decked in silver caught my eye. The Deathstar of Ninja. The Shredder. He stood brazenly like he knew something we didn't and I liked it not one bit. Before I had a chance to even take him on more ninja's flew at me and obscured my view. By the time I had them knocked out, the place where old bucket head stood was empty. It was too much to ask he had gone when I heard the clatter of metal and the unmistakable snarl of the the Foot leader. I knew then the odds had gone back in the favour of the enemy. The pit of my stomach dropped.

Whatever advantage we had was long gone and all we could do now was try and make a gap to break away. Just a few stragglers to my right stood between us and an escape rout. Mustering my remaining strength I ploughed into them like bowling pins, sending bodies and even an arm flying. I sensed my brothers following my lead and at last I felt the reprieve of a hard worn battle. But it was brief. As I checked to make sure they were safe I realised that Master Splinter was not with us. I panicked shoving our illustrious leader out of the way to go back but finding a wall of Foot Ninja barring my way back in and worryingly they did not seem inclined to fight me any more. But there was fighting. I could hear it. Through the bodies I saw Master Splinter and with mounting horror I realised he was fighting The Shredder himself.

I tried desperately to find a way through. We all did, but the wall merely shifted to keep blocking us until best I could do was get just close to get a better angle to see the face-off. I wanted to scream out. Master Splinter was being pushed back. Every attack Shredder made pushed him closer and closer to the edge. There was a heavy weight in his arms that I had become familiar with and his movements were slower. His body being torn down by fatigue and age as much as injury.

Then the inevitable happened. Time slowed to a crawl as I saw one of his feet slip on the loose gravel of the roof. One moment steady if tired and the next a stumble. That was all it took. That one moment of distraction, of loosing control. It ripped out of my throat, a roar I never hoped to scream out. There was a splash of blood, a grunt and Shredder tearing out his claws from biting into our father's flesh and pulling with it a trail of innards that unravelled to the floor in a steaming pile. It was a mortal wound. Our father was dead the moment the metal pierced his body. My voice died, sound around died as I watched my father's body crumple to the floor and lay still. And like that he was gone. My mind went too. The Shredder would pay!

I barely remember the next few minutes as my mind and body fused into rampaging revenge. Going beyond exhaustion. There was no holding back, there was no playing nice and avoiding killing. I rained hell on those monsters that were less human then any of us. In my blind rage I noticed nothing and it wasn't until I almost skewered a brother that I realised how lost I had become. Not that my brother noticed.

His face was like the deepest hole, darker then the red mist that had overcame me. An uncharacteristic expression of rage on his face that belied his normal nature. I called out his name but he didn't answer. Lost in emotions I barely could control myself. I reached out a hand to grab him but he agilely avoided my grip, diving headlong into the fray and too fast, I lost sight of him.

As they say history likes to repeat itself, and history is a bitch. When I found my brother again he had caught up to Shredder and was amazingly holding him to a stand still. The passion he reserved for pizza was now focused on a real enemy. I was almost proud of him but my brother was lost the moment our father was killed. His rage was untamed and raw and he did not notice that The Shredder had brought along Karai to the fight in the aftermath of Splinter's death. A secret weapon hidden until the last. The bitch used his rage against him, The Shredder used himself as bait and before I could get close enough a sword sang out in the darkness.

I actually screamed anew then with my red raw throat, when his head hit the floor. What was left of my family stared in horror as it rolled to a stop. I can still remember the look that remained on his face even afterwards. Anger. It was not his usual expression, it never seemed real looking into those empty eyes and that scowl.  
I miss him, I miss his smile, he had died without it.

That was really the end of the fight. We were outnumbered, we were beyond exhausted and we had been dealt a devastating blow that nothing could fix, ever. Revenge was completely out of mind then, I couldn't lose anyone else, I just couldn't. My brothers were in silent agreement, there was no fight left in them and when my brother called a retreat I could only agree numbly. Our bodies were on the very last ebbs, another wave would finish us off. As for our emotional state... It hurt to feel anything.

As if sensing how broken we were The Shredder allowed us to retreat. The vindictive bastard no doubt wanting us to feel every last drop of devastation he had caused us. Killing the rest of us now would not prolong the suffering and that remnant of a man would not waste a chance to leave his enemies to endure such pain. So we pulled back but not before I dealt a killing blow to a Foot that laughed at our misery. It wasn't much but it was something to abate the pain inside.

The return home was a silent one. I couldn't get to grips with what happened. All that ran through my mind was the images of our father falling, our brother slaughtered. My hand burned. It burned at how close it had come to grabbing him. If only I was faster. If only we hadn't been so careless. If only.

The moment we entered the lair I used my offending hand to punch the nearest wall. It hurt like crazy but I felt a vicious sense of satisfaction as well. I felt the bones grind inside my fist and the blood leaking down my knuckles. It felt good. It was a feeling familiar. I needed the familiar to drown out the torrent inside.

I sat down on the tatty old sofa and let the blood drip whilst I was vaguely aware of my brothers slumped about me. I couldn't comfort them. What could I have said? Nothing would bring our family back. There was nothing in me even when one brother pulled away to stand silently in front of Sensei's room. Hands clenched like mine had been and muttering words I could not hear. My other brother could not bear to stay in the main room at all. I watched blankly as he walked on by, a zombie of his own, and slipped quietly into his room with a click. Not long after there were sounds that would have scared me into action if it were not for the fact I was suffering in my own misery as well.

The weeks that passed by were like a dream. We were not living but merely existing. My bike lay untouched, instead I found the garage to be a good place to throw things or break stuff without disturbing my brothers. Not that they would notice much. One was busy alternating between muttering to himself and meditating and my other brother would just mess with old projects but still end up with the same piles of junk as before. In fact the only thing we seemed to find purpose in was in the dojo.

After a while even that was all that mattered. Training became our world. A chance to vent and hone skills with a new vicious intent. In the end I didn't even care about physical needs; I wanted vengeance and was prepared to practice until I collapsed. I lost myself in it. It was a passion that stirred in my brothers too as we pushed each other to the limits and then some. Every training round inflicted injuries on each other. I liked the pain. Pain was good. Pain was to be endured. Part of me was disturbed but I pushed that weakness deep inside. Weakness cost us two of our family.

Part of me also cherished that time, as it was when I could see the light of something inside my brothers, instead of that hollow sorrow that clung to them outside of the dojo. We rarely talked, never talked about what happened at all. I almost reached out a hand or a word but they always failed me. I couldn't breach that void nor could I see the want to in my brothers eyes. So it was the dojo that was all we had left to bind us. The link that kept us as a family was lost, a way to speak that words could not. Only in the dojo was that link still alive, if only as a whisper of what we once were. But even that could only last so long.

One night I broke. I came to think that all that training, all that practising, it was pointless unless we used it. And The Shredder was still out there. Lounging in the pleasure of our misery. The thought of his smug face tore down the last of my reservations. Just the very image sent me seething and I lost if completely. It was too much. The battle was out there not here! My anger always caused trouble but that was when I regretted it most of all.

“Why they hell are we even bothering!”

“Calm down.”

“Calm down? Calm down! I've had enough of holding back! All of this 'training' has got to be put to use, otherwise why bother?”  
I stomped back and forth the dojo like a caged tiger. Inside I was roaring like a lion. I was a wild animal that needed to be let loose. I knew if I didn't, then I would turn on my brothers. Take out on them what training itself could not.

“We're not ready. We don't have a plan. We can't lose anyone else by charging in. I can't lose anyone else.”  
My brother's voice pitched a little higher after each word. A near whine that made me clench my teeth. I barely looked into his eyes. I didn't want to see the worry or the new lines that had formed there. I didn't want reason. I wanted vengeance then and there.

“Spare me. We're just gonna rot and die down here. Something has to be done and right now! I'm going and no-one is going to stop me. Right?”  
I openly glared in their faces. Daring them to tell me no. I was willing to fight all comers. I would hurt my brothers to save them from worse later. They needed to understand.

“Damn it. Why do you have to do this now?”

Those words were filled with hurt and resignation. I couldn't bear it from my strong brother. He sounded like a child. A worn out child. I refused it.

“I'm not listening. I'm out of here.”

My brother gave me a look of hopelessness, but I turned away. I walked out of the lair that night, not giving a damn about anyone but myself. My other brother who had been silent during the exchange, who couldn't even look me in the eye and finding the ground far more interesting. Whose quick mind and million words were now reduced to barely a mumble these days managed to find something to say.

“Please stay”

Out of that night those words stuck with me the most. But despite how it twisted my gut and made me stumble it couldn't hold me there. I was too busy thinking of the dead to worry about the living. I wish I had listened to him. Listened to the pain he was projecting. What both of my brothers were trying to tell me in their broken way. Maybe then things would have been different, maybe then I wouldn't be here now. Reminiscing on the same roof that destroyed my family and wishing I had died instead.

  
It was three days before I came home. So bent on finding Shredder, Karai and the Foot I didn't even notice the change of days. The first place I looked was where I knew the Shredder last had his base. It was too much to ask for him to still be there. It was empty. There were no clues either so I burned the place to the ground. If the Shredder wasn't there at least the ashes of that place would let him know I was looking for him and my intent. But I never did find him.

I scoured the city top to bottom, found a couple of Foot here and there but they proved useless to me; they knew nothing or simply refused to tell me and such was my rage inside and out that I didn't leave much left of them afterwards. One of them was young I remember. Couldn't have been more then thirteen or fourteen and at the time I didn't give a shit, but now... Just another mark on my conscience. Another life taken. Another reason to consider those three nights as my most shameful. I wish I could have taken it back, I really do. Maybe we could have recovered from the loss of our father and brother. But I destroyed that chance. Three days and nights of a wasted search and I finally returned home and found that the devil had visited my family once again.

  
I knew the moment I returned to the lair that something terrible had happened. Under the stench of old sewage water and mould was a smell I had become increasingly familiar with. A tangy metal smell that was too fresh to be from the rusting sewer pipes. The scent of blood. I hesitated at the entrance. The door ajar. Just enough to want to invite me in yet enough to make me want to turn tail and run away again. But I had been running I realised. I couldn't run again. They needed me. It's funny thinking back. Even then, before I opened that door, I was thinking of finding two brothers home, but there was only one.

My worst fears were realised the moment I entered. I wanted with all my being to find my brothers safe and well. A part of me even wanted to see my whole family and everything before merely being a dream. But it was dashed the moment I saw my brother sitting in the middle of the floor of the living room. A single brother with blood stained hands and a sound so terrible, so lost crawling from his throat.

He didn't look up even as I entered the lair, holding my sai I had subconsciously pulled from my belt in readiness for some enemy that was not there. I stood there for who knows how long just looking at him. Wishing this was not real. Eventually the shakes that rattled my body loosened my grip on my weapons and they slipped free to the floor with a wince inducing clang. It was that sound that broke the moment. My brother raised his head to stare at me. Through me. His eyes were blank... almost like... I couldn't bear that look and sank to the floor. All my fears were realised in it. I could do the math and it was unbearable.

My courage. My fire left me, for a time I sat on the ground opposite my remaining brother. I could sense him looking at me with his dead eyes. I could hear him trying to hold back his wailing with his sodden whimpers. I wanted to grab him up. Comfort him but I was too drained myself. Worn down by recent events and the weight of my own heavy heart. But in the end I pulled myself together enough to ask him.

“How?”

What I heard, well, it broke me more. It was my fault this time that another of our family died. My fault!  
Two days after I had stormed out of the lair they had gotten worried that something had happened to me so decided to go search. And, well, after the state I left them, they had feared I had done something stupid. The stupid part was me leaving in the first place but they feared worse and I couldn't blame them. I would have done the same thing. There's nothing like losing a loved one to make you more fearful of losing another.

Like my attempt to find Shredder their search proved just as useless in finding me. I had gone to parts of the city I wouldn't normally have whilst they had been focused on my more familiar haunts. I cannot bear to even consider how close we might have come to finding each other if we had been in the same area. To be so close and yet so far... No. I won't go there. Too much. Too many Ifs as it was.  
In the end, instead of finding me they found worse. I don't know how the larger Foot forces missed me with the trail I left behind but they certainly didn't fail to find my brothers. As my brother's words flowed weakly from ragged lips I felt the coil of despair wrap tight. From his description, the Foot had been prepped for extreme prejudice. Our time hidden away had probably made the Shredder bored of the hunt. The Foot were more then willing to finish the bloody game with us it seemed. No more drawn out suffering. No more get out of Jail free card. It was kill at first sight.

I listened as he talked on. They had fought back, but even with the extra training we had put ourselves through, was not enough against the numbers and arrogance of the enemy. The Foot had forced them to an alley. Trapped them in a corner with no escape. The words flowed on like blood. They had been worn down. He had lost his weapon in the altercation, left with only raw and bloodied fists and feet to fight with. Unable to defend himself fully he had been knocked to the ground and fruitlessly put his hands up to ward off a swinging blade aimed for his head. If not taking his head with him, the sword would have sliced his arms from his body. But it found neither target.

My brother paused then. Swallowed thickly. His red rimmed eyes trailed away. I could see that brain of his was working overtime. I don't know if he was trying to find the right words to say or the pictures got stuck in his head but I felt my muscles twitch willing to put my hand out to touch him. Let him know it was OK to continue. And my hand almost did, but then his teeth had clicked together and he found his voice once more.

The Blade that could have mortally wounded him. That surely would have killed him was deflected in it's arc. My brother's face turned pale as he told me how our other brother simply dived into it's path and taking it's sharp sting into his body with a grunt. The blade's angle aligning with his exposed side. Where our shells connected more by muscle and sinew then keratin. The blade had bit deep and in an instance both of my brothers had known it was fatal.

He talked quieter and quieter to me about how our Brother smiled then. A goodbye smile as he knew he was a dead turtle standing. He had barely flinched when the Foot ripped the blade back out, and my brother fell to open weeping as he told me of the blood spraying across his lap and our brother, valiant until the last, crumpling as he was torn open.  
I couldn't bear the tears. I closed in to hold his hand then changed my mind and wrapped my whole body around him instead as his body convulsed into heavy sobs.

It took me while to get the rest of the story from my brother. The police had chosen to turn up just after that and the Foot took no chances and vanished leaving my brothers behind. One was dying while the other was desperately trying to save him. In the end our bravest brother died in his arms and if not for the humans arriving he would have stayed there and held our brother's body until daylight and beyond. I didn't ask what happened to the body afterwards. I wasn't sure I wanted to know or that he could have even told me. Instead we just leaned on each other and let our newest sorrow take over.  
In the days that followed, we beat ourselves up. I had been too eager for revenge. Too quick to react and ultimately my own rashness cost us more of our family. It was hard to look at my surviving brother without feeling all those emotions tangled up inside of me. A bitter anger I had used outwards on the enemy was turned inwards. When I looked at my brother I hated myself. When I saw the empty lair I felt the welling up of deep dark sorrow that made me want to curl up in a corner and cry.

It took all I had to not turn my short comings on myself. But I knew I couldn't. My last brother needed me. And I knew I was not alone in feeling a heavy weight of responsibility for what happened. His own feelings were hard to hide. I could tell in the slope of his shoulders, the silence in his eyes that he felt guilty too. A guilt for not being strong enough. For surviving a death that was meant for him. He denied it to me of course. Out of shame or because he wanted to protect me I don't know. I only know he was wrong. I tried to tell him that in not so many words. He had nothing to feel guilty for. It was my fault and my fault alone. My actions were the catalyst of that night. I told him over and over, hoping he would accept the truth but he stubbornly refused. I could have forced it but something had changed in me that day. I learned that there were other ways to cope besides by violence. I had to be the bigger brother. To be the brother I should have always been. I would wait until he was ready and just be there for him.

It wasn't a role I was used to. I did the best I could to keep us together, trying to bridge what remained of our family together. It was hard work. Getting through the endless guilt we tossed each other and the infinite loss we felt was a hard battle. Eventually though we leaned on each other like never before. That was strange, before all this we had been the loners, but after the last 'incident' you would have had to use a crowbar to separate us. Whenever a run was required to replenish stock we always went together and even in the lair we managed to gravitate to the same rooms the other was in.  
I don't know how he felt but for me being alone hurt unbearably. I always feared if I turned away and looked back he would be gone. I felt a clench of panic whenever I looked for and didn't see my brother. At night it was worse. We used to have separate rooms but those early nights I spent rigid under the covers, breath short and gasping and keenly aware of being alone. I couldn't bear it one night and sought my brother only to find him fretting in a nightmare. His whimpering reminding me of the sounds he made when I found him covered in our lost siblings blood. As newly designated protector I couldn't let him suffer in those memories. I curled up in his bed and held him until his shuddering subsided. The next night we moved our bedding into the dojo and never left. Sleep was still not calm but at least we did not dread that time and found strength in each other's presence.

I lose track of the days then. Days of coping. Days of denial. Days of bottling up guilt and trying to be strong for each other. It was a slow process. We had lost so much but I do remember going that extra mile. I do remember coaxing a rare if dimmed smile from my brother at times. Those days where the wounds were a little less open were days I cherished. It wasn't happiness. I didn't think we could ever be happy again and I knew nothing would ever be the same again but we had each other. At least for a little while. I guess in the end though I should have known. We never really had a chance to heal what was broken and torn inside of us. We never had a chance to make a new life with just the two of us. In the end we were slack, no, I was slack, again. I killed him too.

I was So busy trying to patch up a broken bond that I didn't even think about securing the lair after all that had happened. It never occurred to me that Shredder would ever find our home. Or that he would never stop looking. I had stopped caring about that monster in caring for my brother. I should have known better, I was in charge. I took up that mantel, it was my job to remember these things! It was my fault! Again! Why? Why did I have to be so fucking stupid! No, that isn't right I shouldn't think that way. But... Damn it!

If I had thought clearly, thought like a leader I should have anticipated Shredder finding the location of our lair. I had been working on a punch bag. Just letting lose pent up energy from being stuck in the lair after a rain storm had flooded the surrounding sewers. My brother had been in the kitchen, cooking. We never expected it. The entrance of the lair caved in with a mighty crash and through the rubble the Foot swarmed in like bugs. I didn't think. There wasn't time. I rushed to the dojo. Calling my brother's name in the process. We needed our weapons. I reached the weapons rack and grabbed the nearest one, a ninjato. (There was no time to find my sais.) I also managed to get a jo staff for my brother. I rushed back to the main room before the Foot could invade the dojo and found my brother fighting them off with a Frying pan. There would have been a time I would have found that amusing but not now. Not after so much.

I called his name again catching a tilt of his head to let me know he heard and I threw the Jo staff to him. He caught it with the ease of long practice and instinct and I could do no less then use my own skills to fight the hoard. I sliced at every opponent that attacked, breaking arms and spilling blood to clear a path to my brother. I felt near relief when I felt his shell back against mine. There was no way we could handle this number on our own and every strategic part of me screamed that we needed to make a path out of the lair, and there was no way I was going to leave alone. It was a wasted effort. The Foot had clearly planned this attack in advance. Had lured me to my brother's side only so they could focus their attack on wearing us down and splitting us apart again. I tried my hardest but with only two of us against 30 or more it was impossible. I screamed and raged and killed every Foot that dared get in my way. Saw my brother fight with violence of his own that he had never shown before. Everything our father taught us was lost in a haze of desperation and fear of losing the other. Of remembering those we lost to the enemy.

I was practically tripping over the entrance of the dojo when I realised I could no longer see my brother. I knew where he was from the shouting but could not see him through the mass of black clad bodies. I was about to deliver the finishing blow to another Foot when my hand froze at the shriek of my name. He did not cry out my name in anger or for support. It was more desperate, more terrified. It froze my blood. I screamed his name back, turning my ire on the Foot between us. I tried for the second time in that fight to clear my way to him but they made it too difficult. I only had a moment. A brief window to see my brother once more before they closed ranks again. He had been on the ground. His body still and lifeless as Foot kicked and punched his inert form. There was blood. Blood around where his silent head rested on the ground. I just caught the sight of a blade aiming for his neck and then I saw him no more. I knew he was dead. My last brother who I had sworn I would protect was dead. I had failed.

I don't really remember what happened after that. My memory is very vague about what happened after that. I was lost to my internal demon; it took over. By the time my head had cleared, where I could think again and feel, feel so much, I was long gone from the lair, my home, my hope, my whole life. The Foot were nowhere to be seen. Had I killed them all? Had they let me escape? Had I merely barged my way through? I didn't know how I survived but I did.

For days I've been wandering, alone, lost. For days my world has been nothing but pain, sharp, stabbing, unending pain. It tears me and hurts me. When your cut as deep as this you know its forever. There is no mending this wound. I am the last. The one ironically voted most likely to die first. With a life like ours you come up with all this morbid stuff, but we never took it seriously. We were young and immature and… I wish for that again. I'm all alone now. I can't help but think about the last seven months or so over and over again. It consumes me.  
It all began on a roof-top. This roof-top beneath my feet right now. Ignoring the tears I look back again at those beautiful lights and the people behind them. Humans. Pathetic. They live a life of ignorance. I want to be ignorant too. I don't want to be alone any more. I want my family back! I want Shredder dead! I want… I want everything to be the way it was! I want out!  
-  
I guess its time to finish this now.  
Looking down I know what to do.  
The only thing I can do.  
I'm all that's left.  
It's time….


End file.
